


Clarifying Ownership

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-23
Updated: 2010-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's eyes flew open, but he didn’t dare turn his head. He listened carefully to the flap of the tent being pulled back and heard the clank of armour against chainmail as a knight entered the tent, not a foot away from their make-shift mattress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarifying Ownership

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://lolafeist.livejournal.com/profile)[**lolafeist**](http://lolafeist.livejournal.com/) and [](http://accioslash.livejournal.com/profile)[**accioslash**](http://accioslash.livejournal.com/) for the beta reads.

The chill of the late-November wind penetrated the tent, cooling Merlin’s fingers and exposed neck. Arthur’s body seared against his back, the slow drag of Arthur’s cock heating him in all the best ways. The angle wasn’t perfect and the pace too slow for either of them, but Merlin knew Arthur didn’t care. Arthur liked him pinned to the bed, flat on his belly, liked that Merlin’s cock was trapped. He loved the quiet whimpers as Merlin waited for Arthur to finish, demanding nothing. He loved that Merlin was willing to hold himself still and be patient when a dozen of Arthur’s knights sat about a campfire on the other side of the canvas.

Back in Camelot, in Arthur’s chambers with the door barred, Merlin would ride him hard and fast. Even with Arthur’s fist in his own mouth, the sounds that escaped filled the room, loud and filthy. On nights like this though, they tried to be as quiet as they could. So Merlin didn’t move. He let Arthur have control because he understood that Arthur could not let go. Not here.

Arthur slammed in hard again and breathed Merlin’s name at his shoulder in a puff of air. Arthur’s hips shuddered through his release as he pressed himself into Merlin’s arse as deep as the position allowed. The pillow was damp and cool beneath Merlin’s cheek as he waited it out, his eyes shut tight against the sensation of Arthur’s pulsing cock while his own ached to be touched. He could come if only he shifted his hips, rocked back and forth and let the friction of the rough sheets get him off. But he held himself still, knowing it would be so much better if he could last. Arthur would make it so much better.

When Arthur pulled out with a wet, dirty sound Merlin had to bite his lip to halt his body’s reaction. If he came just from that, from the smooth slide of Arthur’s softening cock leaving him, Arthur would never let him live it down.

The hay stuffed bedroll they pretended was a mattress dipped as Arthur moved off him. He didn’t move far, pressing close to Merlin’s left side and propped on one elbow. Goosebumps rose along Merlin’s exposed leg and back as the wind seeped through the narrow opening of the tent on his right.

“So patient,” Arthur whispered at his ear.

Merlin shivered at the tickle of hot breath. He didn’t reply. The first time Arthur had pulled him into a tent after a battle and said, “We’ll need to be quiet,” Merlin had nodded, knowing what it meant – that _Arthur_ needed to be quiet too, that he’d need to be in control and in charge because Merlin could make him scream so easily. So Merlin said nothing now. Just let Arthur drag his fingertips over the hills and valleys of Merlin’s spine until he finally dipped down Merlin’s cleft and circled his dripping, swollen entrance. Merlin spread his legs at the tease. Anticipation spiking, he shifted to take in the tips of the fingers. He was sore, over sensitive at his rim as Arthur played, rubbing his finger along the muscle and spreading his come.

“Arthur, please,” Merlin rasped, breathless. He didn’t want to come like this, being teased to the point he could barely see. “Please.”

“Shh.” Arthur kissed his shoulder and Merlin let out a ragged gasp as Arthur’s fingers finally inched deeper.

“Sire?” A voice called from outside the tent.

Merlin buried his head in the pillow to muffle his frustrated groan, waiting out the moment as Arthur weighed his options. Then Arthur sat up and for a second Merlin thought he was off to get dressed and leave Merlin to take care of himself. But the fingers hadn’t been pulled free. Merlin felt the soft warmth of a blanket tucked half way up his back as Arthur covered them both and settled again at his side. “Come,” Arthur shouted towards the entrance of the tent and buried his fingers another inch.

Merlin's eyes flew open, but he didn’t dare turn his head. He listened carefully to the flap of the tent being pulled back and heard the clank of armour against chainmail as a knight entered the tent, not a foot away from their make-shift mattress. His entire body flushed. Arthur’s fingers, still buried in Merlin’s come-soaked arse, pumped slowly out then in again. His cheek’s burning, Merlin clenched about Arthur’s fingers to still them.

“Sire?” It was Sir Leon. He stuttered a moment and Merlin imagined his eyes flickering to the bed, to Merlin’s naked back and the love bites he knew were peppered along the nape of his neck, to Arthur’s sweaty, bare chest and the obvious placement of Arthur’s right hand, and to the telling movement of the blanket. Leon cleared his throat and continued, “The scout has returned from the eastern border.”

“And?” Arthur replied, as if Leon had his full attention, as if even now he wasn’t twisting his fingers deep inside Merlin’s arse.

“There have been complaints in the villages about bandits causing trouble on the main trade routes.”

“Very well.” Arthur’s voice remained steady, betraying nothing. “We’ll loop east before heading back to Camelot.” He curled his fingers just so and the slice of pleasure made Merlin’s breath hitch.

The tent fell silent. Merlin counted his own heartbeats, cursing Arthur and Leon both as his aching cock pressed into the sheet below him. His mind raced with what Arthur might be thinking. Leon wouldn’t keep his mouth shut about anything he was seeing and based on the rumble of suppressed laughter at Merlin’s side, Arthur was enjoying thoroughly himself. Before Merlin could think further on it, Arthur curled his fingers again, pressing hard against that sweet spot. Merlin’s hips lifted off the mattress in surprise.

“Anything else?” Arthur asked, the question dripping with false innocence. The blanket had slipped, enough to let the chill hit Merlin’s bare hip.

Merlin whimpered, mortified, his cock painfully hard. If he wasn’t allowed to come in the next minute, he might do some serious damage to important bits of his anatomy. His arse twitched around Arthur's fingers as he listened to Leon shifting about at the entrance.

Leon cleared his throat again but his voice still cracked over a hasty, “No, Sire.”

“Excellent, you may go.”

Outside, the rumbling conversation around the campfire hushed as Leon rejoined the group without a doubt looking like he had a story to tell.

“Hmm, I wonder if they’re talking about us?”

Merlin could _hear_ the bloody smirk on Arthur’s face. “Prat.”

Arthur’s chuckle was dark and rich like undiluted wine. His renewed erection poked Merlin in the thigh.

“Can you take me again?” Arthur asked, already tossing aside the blanket and settling between Merlin’s thighs.

“No. Arthur, God. I need--” Arthur pushed in, not giving Merlin a second to argue, to prepare. A guttural sound slipped past Merlin’s lips. He gritted his teeth to try to stay in control. “I can’t--”

Arthur rolled his hips. “Yeah.”

“Please,” Merlin said, too far gone to stop his voice from rising, too in need of air to muffle himself with a pillow. “I can’t.” His brain wasn’t functioning enough to contemplate what Arthur was playing at.

Arthur slipped his hand around Merlin’s shoulders and pulled him off the mattress. “I don’t care.” He sat back on his heels and pulled Merlin to his chest until Merlin was on his lap and Arthur was buried deep, so much deeper than they’d managed earlier. Merlin keened at the burn.

Arthur’s fingers closed around Merlin’s cock and all the air seemed to disappear from his lungs. Then Arthur squeezed Merlin’s cock in his fist. Barely hanging on, Merlin arched, letting his head fall back to Arthur’s shoulder.

“This was never about hiding.” Arthur’s teeth grazed the taut muscles of his neck. “Everyone has always known. But it’s cold and lonely these nights away from home.”

“Yeah.” Merlin understood. He saw it in their faces as they drank their ale and stared at the flames in the quiet, dark hours night after night. Finding solace was one thing; showing it off to those who couldn’t or wouldn’t was another.

Arthur pumped him, a fast, brutal pace that tore at his defences as he pounded at his already tender arse. “This morning I caught a couple knights watching you in the stream,” Arthur whispered, the words catching, bitter and hard.

“Who?” When Arthur’s fist stilled, he realized it was the wrong question. He tilted his hips somewhere between an apology and begging for pity.

“Doesn’t matter.” The response was clipped and Merlin could guess at least one name that could get that reaction. Arthur should know better, should know he’s the one to ever matter.

They fell silent, so close, Merlin grunting with each snap of Arthur’s hips, the volume in the tent rising every moment.

“Say my name.” Arthur kissed the command into his skin, then tightened the grip on his cock, swiping the tip and working his thumb along Merlin’s slit.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed.

Grinding hard into Merlin’s arse, his arm pressed tense, possessive across Merlin’s chest, Arthur demanded, “Say it.”

“Arthur,” Merlin cried out as he felt the stirring of his balls, beyond any flare of pride. Then, “God, Arthur,” tore from him, loud and piercing, leaving his throat raw and body spent.

Arthur followed with a few more thrusts, crying out, forehead pressed to Merlin’s shoulder.

They stayed twisted together, Merlin on Arthur’s lap, the softening cock still inside him, listening to the silence. The cool air prickled their damp, heated skin.

“Mercy,” came a voice from the quiet campfire, followed by a snort. The few uncomfortable chuckles were soon drowned by the dull sounds of the conversation starting again.

Arthur got up, carefully laying Merlin back on the bedroll. He returned with a soft cloth and cleaned Merlin, kissing his elbows, the back of his knees, his tailbone while he worked. Finally, he slipped back into bed, pulling the covers over them both. Tangled together beneath a thick, worn blanket, they let the indecipherable whispers around the campfire lull them to sleep.

~fin  


**Author's Note:**

> _This fic now has a short[dvd commentary](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/541870.html?thread=10000046#t10000046) if you are interested in the author's thoughts on this pwp._


End file.
